Dear Djaq and Will,
by KeepingAmused
Summary: Thoughts, messages, stories from the gang. WillDjaq, Allan, Matilda, Much, John, Wilma
1. to the holy land

Dear Djaq and Will,

Much

How are coping in the heat? We really do need you back here. Well, don't worry _too_ much. We're kind of coping. We had no near-death experiences today. Thank God. Or Allah, for you, Djaq.

I don't think I've ever heard so much stamping and grunting from John in my _life_. He really does need to relax. I was in the middle of suggesting that he tried humming or a hobby such as, well, cooking – but then his staff "slipped". Oh my _head_. I wonder if I have permanent damage...Djaq I suggest you hurry! We have no physicians in this camp whatsoever.

Allan

Obviously, this isn't any of our handwriting. We got Matilda to do that job, seeing as we're all illiterate idiots and Robin's been in a right huff for weeks. How I'm coping with that manservant, I honestly do not know...Not being funny, but I almost missed him when I was with Giz. But now I'm back with the lads.

So, are you two married or what? I swear I thought I saw you, Will, in Nettlestone yesterday. I stopped when this skinny boy smacking his axe around his new chicken pens. I was thinking: since when does Will build shelters for farm animals? Made me laugh, it did. Especially when he started chasing the bloody chickens around.

Oh hang on - you'll be chasing 'em pigeons now, ey?

How's Bassam's palace treatin' you? Lucky gits. There's a leak in our camp roof. I suggest you come and fix it, William Scarlett.

Little John

Hello you two. We got your letter about returning to England. We're pleased.

I told the others that we can't write more than twenty words onto Lardener's ring. It's lucky Allan sniped a couple extra pigeons. This message is very **very** long.

**Well**. We're all fine. Hope you are too.

That will be all.

Robin

Matilda's been pestering me about this letter for days, so I might as well write something. I'm sorry, my friends, that we have interrupted the life you wished to have in the Holy Land. We're hardly managing without you both and we'd be forever grateful if you came back to your empty bunks. They're waiting for you.

I'd like one final request, before you both return. I would like you to lay fresh flowers on Marian's grave. I wish I could forever lay garlands on my love's grave, but her body was put to rest in a land so far away. Yet, I feel her spirit near.

God bless,

The Gang.


	2. to sherwood

Dear Gang,

Djaq

In response to your message earlier, I have to say – the two pigeons were _exhausted_ from the weight of your message! But we, too, have decided to write as much as possible. We miss all of you very much.

Bassam's house is truly magnificent, yet somehow I still miss our camp. Even with you filthy men. Oh, Allan, why did you leave so soon? Our new maid is _extremely_ attractive. And she's unmarried. _Shame_...Sorry, I couldn't resist teasing you.

Do not worry, Robin. Bassam has kept a yard of flowers thriving in this Holy Land, even through this terrible draught. I will place them on Marian's grave. I hope that you find peace, even after what you have both suffered.

Allah be with you.

Will

Hi, Lads. Obviously, this is Djaq's handwriting.

Don't touch the leak, by the way. And I mean you, Much. You'll probably make the hole bigger. I suggest Robin describes it to a thatcher (we have to keep the camp secret, obviously) and gets his advice. Or just wait. I'll be home soon.

Yes, Bassam's place is fit for a king. The beams are as strong as armour! Incredible wood, this. I think I'll take some samples back to England. And don't worry Much, I'm sure you'll live.

How hard did John hit you, anyway?

Well. Allan. We're not actually married just yet.

Djaq 

We wanted a beautiful ceremony to take place in England, with our family.

Will

Yeah. That happens to be you lot.

Take care,

Djaq and Will


	3. to the holy land again

Allan

'Ere, when are you two coming to England? Not that I want to rush you lovebirds or anything...but we kind of need a hand back here.

Robin's got his knickers in a right twist. The Black Knights have the King kidnapped, he thinks. Personally, I reckon poor Richard's had a few too many and then got lost on the way back from the Holy Land – from all that ale and such.

Oh, yeah, and your message took a while...Much has already gone and stuck his fat finger in the leak, hasn't he. Honestly, we need you both.

How long will you be 'till you set off from The Acre?

John

Hurry. **NOW.**

Take Care,

Allan, John (and Matilda)


	4. to sherwood again

Will

Much. I swear to God. Try not to block the whole gap, or the pressure will build up and the leak will only get worse. Try getting something to rest on top of the roof...? Wood will do the trick. Oak, cherry, anything. Wax the wood first, though. Use beeswax...

Djaq

I'm afraid we may take a while. There are no ships leaving to England at the moment, so we will have to wait in Acre for a couple of days. I think this has something to do with the Black Knights. I am still not very sure...

Please remind Robin to eat. And Allan, check under bunk for bottles of ointment. I think I remember leaving three types of antidotes under there...show them to Matilda and ask her to kindly duplicate my extracts. Please. They will be of use when we return.

Will

And I'll assemble some more weapons. There are soom fine Saracen arms down here.

God Bless,

Will and Djaq


	5. and again

Much

Will! I didn't touch the leak, I promise! I just had a _look _at it. And, _anyway_, we placed a thick plank from a broken fence above the roof...Even though I really don't understand the difference between _Oak _and _Cherry _wood..._What?_ You are truly obsessed, Will. That part confused me... But _I_ waxed it. Hah! I'm quite impressed with that chunky layer of wax. By the way, what's the beeswax _for_, exactly? It smells revolting!

Allan

It's to make the wood waterproof, innit?

Anyways, that's not the point. The point is – you need to get back here. Robin's going absolutely beserk. The Sheriff's got more guards. Plenty of them. I don't recognise any of the new blokes at all. Robin thinks it's the Black Knights' handywork. Oh, and cheers, Will - We'll be needing all that fancy Saracen stuff. Lots of it.

Matilda

Djaq, I've managed to make some more of your ointments. Ah! You see, you have some of the same extracts as me. I got a bit baffled by your labels, at first. But now I know what mushroom juice is in latin!

Anyway, pet. You take care of your fella!

Lots and Love, Hurry back soon

The Gang (and Matilda)


	6. Allan's thoughts

Allan's thoughts after the last message, 5pm.

Right. We just let that bloody pigeon fly, for the hundredth time.Go on, flap off. Let's hope the message reaches Bassam's place before I take that plank of wood into my own hands and give Much a hard...

No. Stop.

Allan, be calm. Calm calm calm.

Not being funny, but how am I supposed to be calm? It's all changed. - I have to be the mature outlaw. Stinks, this.

Robin's been in an annoying mood for weeks, now. I should be sympathetic, and all that. We all loved Marian. Heck, Robin married Marian! Was a pretty umcomfortable wedding, I have to admit, with her saying her wedding vows in her last breath. It was kind of heartbreaking, seeing those two. I imagined their wedding to be slightly different. I saw myself as a strapping young man waiting by Robin at the alter, watching the pretty bridesmaids flit down the aisle.

End of that.

Even Little John's been huffy. Mad man. Stamping that bloody staff around.

I hear my voice, every five seconds yelling at the gang to cheer up. I mean, come _on_ lads, we're back together, we're supposed to be - "we are Robin Hood" and that nonsense. I'm supposed to be the lazy git, dragging his heels behind. But the cheeriness is seeping out of us like ale in a goblet made of wool...

Nice euphamism that. Like ale in a goblet of wool. Or is it a simile? I need Marian back, to explain my grammar and what not.

Anyway, back to the point. There's nothing to be cheery about.

I'm sat on a cold rock. Which is pretty pointy, too. And I'm just sharpening bloody arrows. Robin's got his deppressed little head lagging on his lap. Much is flitting about, watching that carrier pigeon turn into a dot in the sky. Little John is stood, hovering over us, like the Holy Spirit or something.

I swear, they're all mad.

I need Djaq and Will.


	7. Djaq and Will's thoughts

Djaq's thoughts

We've finally made our way onto the ship. At _last_. Will was getting rather uncomfortable, especially with all the man-hungry village girls eyeing him up and down at the docks. What? Have they never seen a pale man before? It's infuriating, the youth of today. They're supposed to hide behind their headscarves and act shy, instead they try to dig their claws into English men. The Saffiya in me is shocked.

We're aboard now. England, here we come. I'm ready to face whatever the Sherriff and the Black Knights have prepared for us. There will be traps for the King, I am sure. Will and I must conjure a plan.

My senses are filled with some sort of dizziness, it's infuriating. I was never seasick on our last journey. I can't vomit. No. I will not. I will not. I am always in control. Always. I'll try to distract myself by going through the names of laxative leaf extracts, that should work. Right, here goes..._Aloe Barbendis_...

Oh, but the ebbing of the waters is nauseating...The boat is rocking. I cannot ignore it any longer. Oh Allah, save me. My head is spinning...I cannot bear it much longer...

Will's thoughts

Right. Great start to the journey. Djaq's unwell. She managed to scramble up to the deck, just in time. Poor Djaq. I might ask the maid for some broth, seeing as her stomach will be empty when she comes down to the cabin.

It looks like the maid was one of the Saracens watching me before we boarded the ship. Strange, how their eyes follow every movement I make. Made be a bit nervous. I thought they were going to attack me at first, so I kind of gripped my axe. But I realised that most of them were quite young girls...But you never know, after our battle with Saladdin's female assasination group...

Djaq's thoughts

What in the world?

Where did that serving girl come from? Spying Will. Honestly. I don't even know why it's bothering me so much.

Well, at least we have a warm supper.

I ask Will, chuckling to myself "Do you think Much has made broth tonight?"

Will's thoughts

Yeah, Much will be stirring up something. Poor lads.


	8. Much and John think

Much

Robin is driving me insane. He doesn't utter a single word. Well, he does, but it's not exactly conversational! It's not healthy to keep things locked up, you know. Djaq told me that. I miss that gleam in Robin's eye. _Even_ when he's poking fun at me. In fact, I miss _Djaq_.

Robin's wit has met his match, when it comes to _Djaq_. When he says something sorrowful, she knows what to say to comfort him. When he's being unreasonable, she bites back with some of her intelligence! Always! That's what we need right now. Intelligence. Intellect. Anything. Anything to keep us going. Somebody to think of a _plan, _I reckon.

Allan thinks we need to cheer up. WELL he can't speak for me..I am _perfectly_ cheerful! I'm the _perfect portrait_ of pleasure. My middle name is cheerful. Hmph! I suggest he rubs that comment in _John's_ direction...grumpy old man.

If Will was here, John wouldn't be like this. He wouldn't slouch and stare at his staff all day. Actually, he would. But, on the evening, he would probably have a very meaningful chat and sigh with Will. It would be a short chat. Obviously. Like, I don't know - "I feel SAD."

Hahaha.

No. We are all _sad_. Deep down, we're all miserable and tormented and wasted.Well, _they_ are. Hungry, annoyed, abused, stomachs rumbling...Well, _mine_ is.

I spot a squirrel scampering past us. But I don't feel like hunting it, today.

Little John

Bloody fool. There goes our dinner...


	9. thoughts nearing Portsmouth

Will's thoughts

I've lost count. Nope, it'll be two days. Djaq says three days. Right, it'll be three more days on this ship. That means, only three more days until our feet touch English soil. I can't wait to get my axe swinging! The only plants around the Holy Land are a couple of fig trees and Bassam's flower garden.

Three more days until I hear some fat captain's voice echo down the cabins. That's the signal. Me and Djaq can run onto the shore. It'll be chilly, I bet. Probably pouring down. Muggy. I'm guessing there'll be a disgusting stench of donkeys all around. My fingers will be numb again. Probably crooks about on the harbour, too. Rotten fish and potatoes. In fact, judging by the storm, we're expecting hail at Portsmouth.It'll absolutely freezing.

I can't wait.

Djaq's thoughts

My nausea is over. Thank Allah. I think I'm adjusting to the sway of the ship, finally. I can't afford retching again. It's starting to burn the back of my throat.

Will's thoughts

I have to admit, spending time with Djaq on this ship was definitely a good point. In the camp, I was too knotted up with nerves to even hold her hand, not knowing how she felt and all. Bassam's place was like a palace, but the amount of interruptions from the servants and the need to feed the pigeons really got in the way...

Djaq's thoughts

Will is staring at me again. I wonder what he's thinking? His cheeks have become a tinge pink. Interesting. Logically, it's not a hard guess.

Will

I love you, Djaq...

Djaq

Haha. I know exactly what he's silently saying. I think I'll say "I love you, too," out loud...

Will

_How_ does she always do that? And did Djaq just wink?

Djaq

This is fun. "Yes" I say, winking again.

Will

How did she...?


	10. Wilma's thoughts

Thoughts of Wilma (a barmaid at Porstmouth Inn)

I sit here a-twitching me fingers on the windowsill as the last round of men leave the ships. A storm is brewing over the sea, the horizon looks shady. Those new sailors are going to be in for a nasty bump, I tell ye.

"Wilma," Nettie hissed, nudging me hard in the side, "stop daydreaming for two seconds, please?"

"'Aite, 'aite," I moan, pulling up me petticoats. There's a whole new crew of brutes to be served. Again.

I see drunken eyes everywhere as I scuttle around the bar. The ale is heavy sloshing away into me goblet as I wait, watching the sailors and Richard's army roll back to the mother land. Some people ain't touching their broth, just staring into it with their lovesick eyes. They must be dreaming of their sweethearts, I know it. Poor sods.

Nettie pulls her frills down again, pushing her bloody chest up, batting her lashes at the new 'uns. They're like dough in her hands. They watch her wigglin' and gigglin', slamming down coins with their tongues dangling out their mouths.

I just shake me head, tutting at the wench. One day she'll learn.

"Can we have two broths, please?" says a soft lil' voice from behind me back.

I turn around and knock me eyes into a couple of young faces. The first one is a lanky-looking lad. Tall.He talks to me, kind of chipper and that, probably excited to be home, me thinks. Then I spot a dark face next to him, could 'ave thought it a Saracen boy! But no, that delicate little face is just a woman with some odd hair, I tell ye. She's wee and young with those round, begging eyes.

"Yeah," I smile, settling them both on the bar.

I watch the couple, fascinated, I tell ye. They're innocent as lambs in the field, grinning at each other as I slide some broth down the bar for 'em. The wee lady stands out a bit, looking abit like a gold-skinned sea urchin with that hood up. But she pulls it down, lookin' fresh by the candlelight. Looks a darling. Queer hair, though.

"Wilma," Nettie's screeching at me, stamping that foot around, again.

I pretend me ears aren't workin'. I'm happy watching that sweet couple, they're looking into each others eyes. Like dark oats and cream. Wood and snow. It's beauty you don't see around 'ere.

"Wilma, Wil-ma!" Nettie's screamin' again, waving around in the corner of me eye, "Wil!"

"Me?" The skinny lad looks up and his Saracen lass turns around to face us, too.

"Who's s'at?" some oaf slurs at me, smacking his goblet down. He's pointing at the Saracen.

"None of ye business," I says, giving him a little frown and that.

But aye. Chaos strikes. The brute ain't happy with foreigners. I hurry the wee Saracen lady and her scrawny man out of the bar.

Just in time, too.


	11. by God, the narrator

"We're home," She whispered.

He could feel that his voice was too thick with emotion, so he remained silent, choked with relief. They were back.

Back to the sting of tears from the bitter wind. The strewn leaves, crispy, beneath their feet. The charcoal clouds misting the skies. The flit of moths' wings in the thin moonlight. The low groans from a tired outlaw's throat. The pungent scent of onions bubbling in a thick broth. The creak of branches as the camp entrance sealed in the warmth of the fire...

It was good to be home.

"Is it you two?" a brass-blonde crown of hair and a pair of pale, hooded eyes lifted and faced the couple, "You're back?"

"Well, obviously, Alan A-Dale," a soft Saracen voice smirked through the steady crackle of the camp fire.

- -- - -- ---- -- ---- --- ---

"We were worried," John reluctantly broke into the long-missed chuckles that bubbled through the camp, a frown paining his face.

"Worried?" Will coughed, slowing down his laughter. He was laid on his old bunk, his head nesting in the crook of his arm as he joked with Allan and Much.

"Portsmouth is a dangerous area, now," Robin explained, slowly shifting from his corner of isolation towards his friends, "but you returned to us safely, no less." . His sorrowful eyes were encrusted with broken sleep, a peace that was scarce to him since Marian's death.

Djaq smiled reassuringly, seating herself next to Much to observe the supper that was simmering successfully above the fire. She shivered, the familiar smell of salty stew bringing her soul alive with the memory of Sherwood.

"And we have enough firewood, thank the Lord," Much grinned as he eagerly leaned forward to place the tip of his tongue on the burning ladle. He yelped, badly blistering his lips .

"What did I tell you about tasting the food before it's cool?" Alan sighed, smacking Much on the shoulder.

Much whimpered, crossing his arms in childlike impatience.

- -- ------ ------- ------ - --- -------------------

Djaq watched the gang retreat to their bunks, warm with conversation, ignoring every warning they had prepared about the Black Knights. Allan's face was glowing as if he hadn't shared a teasing comment in months, his cheekbones aching from his wide smile.

"Night, gang," Robin whispered, crouching weakly on his bunk.

Allan yawned, mouthing 'he's always like this' to Will and Djaq's worried expressions. He had grown tired of Robin's miserable antics, yet the couple who stood tanned from the Middle Eastern heat was new to this change in their leader. They smiled at each other sadly and knowingly, understanding Robin's mournful behaviour.

The steady hoots of a midnight owl crept through the camp, bringing a content sleep over Little John's body – whom was resting solemnly on his back. Much babbled softly in his sleep, although his mouth was badly throbbing, but he appreciated Djaq's careful dab of herbal salve over his lips.

Djaq watched Will sprawl across his bunk, sighing restlessly in her own. She had grown used to the thick camel skins of the Holy Land and longed for the heat of her lover's body. Will was likely to be pondering the same thought, shifting uncomfortably to face Djaq's bunk.

"It's been a long day," she whispered, smiling at Will's distant features.

"It has," Will agreed, his wistful eyes static on hers.

Djaq immediately took his longing expression as an offer. Her shadow slid across the camp walls as she crept into Will's bunk. He rolled over in triumphantly, allowing her more room.


	12. Thoughts when waking

Allan's thoughts

Brilliant. The manservant wakes me up before sunrise. I thought it was Djaq at first, seeing as both of them have pretty high-pitched hollers...Why do some people not appreciate the need of a good kip? Not being funny, but I swear Much never sleeps. He worries too much. That's why he's so small. Even though he eats most of the food he cooks.

I hear John growl at Much...Something about it being the middle of the night.

God bless good old John. He'll shut Much up. And probably smack him with his staff. Bloody hell. It's too early to think! I need some sleep.

Djaq's thoughts

Is it dawn already? Mmmm. Nope. It's far too dark. I do not see any sign of sunlight. Although, it is a lot warmer than it usually is in England. I suppose I must be receiving Will's body heat.

Will

I think I'll peel off a blanket. It's boiling.

Much

Either my last dream of roast pork is lingering in my senses or...I think I smell something cooking. It's rather nice, actually...quite smoky. Oh, I'd love some bacon today...

Oh my. I think I shall bathe in the creek, after breakfast. It's rather warm for Spring, I must say.

Allan

Phwoar, what is that _smell_?

John

I **told** Much. It's too early. He's already cooking breakfast.

-- ---- --------- --------------- -------------------------

Much

Oh my God. My bunk is on fire. Oh my goodness. FIRE.

Allan

What _now?_

Robin

Oh Much.


	13. Morning bicker

Will It took me ages to build that stand. The finest oak, too. Most of it's charcoal now. (Will mumbles)

Much: Don't look at me like that, Will! It wasn't my fault!

Robin: It was you who decided to move your bunk closer to the campfire, Much. A little _too_close, perhaps?

Allan: Obviously.

Much: I get cold _very easily_, I'll have you know...And the thin blankets and frost doesn't exactly help...Look at my toes, they're blue!

Djaq: Maybe you have poor blood circulation? That can cause low temperature in your hands and feet.

Much: (nods enthusiastically) Yes. Yes! I have poor circulation.

Allan: Apart from the fact that you have _no_ idea what that means, you're going to have to rebuild your bunk. Unless you want to sprawl along the ground, like in the good old days.

Much: I cannot be manouvering tools at the moment. I'm in a state of _shock_, actually. I was nearly cooked alive! Do you know how dangerous a fully blazing fire can be?

Djaq: Do you have any severe burns or scalds? (Djaq scans Much's body quickly)

Much: Well. No. Not exactly...

Allan: So stop your winging, you big _girl_.

(Djaq shoots a glare at Allan)

Allan: No offence, milady. (Allan apologizes sheepishy)

Will: (sighing) It's alright, Much. I'll fetch some timber later on. Don't worry, I'll rebuild it. Maybe we should move your bunk back to it's original place, yeah?

John: **Yes**

Much: (crossed arms) Fine, then. By the way, would someone kindly pass me a rag? I'm soaked. And _shivering_, I'll have you know. I will certainly catch a cold in this predicament...

Robin (rolls eyes): Who used the pail of water to drown out the fire, anyway? Good timing, whoever it was.

John: It was **me. **

Much: You soaked _me_ more than the actual flaming bunk, by the way!

John: I **know. **

(Robin chuckles)


	14. The end of a great day

Allan's thoughts

Y'know what? This has to be the best day EVER.

Not only did I get three deer (yes, three) on my hunt, but we also nabbed a few jewels and a tank of ale off a merchant on the North Road. Success! Plainly, Robin was pretty cheerful about the robbery...And a cheerful Robin should _never_ go amiss...and we had a fresh plateful of venison.

So here I am, belly full of meat. Cracking jokes with the lads. A sweet pint in my hand. Oh, the joys of being an outlaw, eh?

Even sour old Much has passed the panic about his bunk catching fire. It did make me laugh though, especially once John drenched him with a bucket of water. He was just stood in wet undergarments all morning. Poor sod.

Not being funny, but I think I'm going to set up some target competitions with our Lord of Locksley. My aim is getting better every day. Did I say that I shot three deer, today? Clean shot. Each one. No miss. I'd like to put some money on my arrows, but I promised the gang that I wouldn't gamble and such...

Oh, it was a good day. Best day ever, in fact.

Will

Allan is the best mate I could ever have. Seriously, he's hilarious. I don't know what it'd be like without him and his daft jokes.

Much

Will is so drunk. It's unbelievable. We've never managed to get the quiet one squiffy!I don't particularly like it, in fact. He's too emotional, for _my_ liking.

Will

And Much...I should really talk to him more often. I'd miss Much, if we ever lost him.

John

**No more ale for Will.**

Will

I won't even _think _about losing Djaq. I'm going to make sure nothing ever happens to her. Or else I'll kill myself. I actually will kill myself..I don't know what I'd do without her. I can't lose her. I can't.

Djaq

I told them! Alcohol brings out the extremities in a worrisome character. Just look at Will. I'm so disappointed. This is the one thing in English culture that irritates me so much – there need to drink so much that they vomit. Will didn't eat anything all day, which explains his strange behaviour after a drop of ale. Oh Allah.

Will

...She's going to have to be safe, or else life won't be worth living...She has to stay put. She has to stay inside the camp...

Allan

This is the funniest thing I've seen _all_ day. Our carpenter is trying to tie Djaq to a wooden bunk-post using his blanket. I don't know how much ale he's had, but this is hilarious.

Djaq

What is he doing?


	15. Saiful

Much

I'm awake, I'm awake. But I'm finding it a little bit difficult to breathe..with this heavy blanket on my face. It's not a blanket, in fact. Somebody's arm is suffocating me. That somebody happens to be _Allan_.

Honestly. He drinks his weight in amber ale, fills himself with venison and falls asleep in _my_ bunk.On top of me. On my new bunk! I bet it collapses from his weight, which it probably will, considering my luck. Will won't be happy, fixing me another.

Oh, what can you do? At least he's keeping me warm. It's a chilly night. Or a chilly morning, rather. It's very early, isn't it? What is all this clanging I hear? Bells?

Djaq

I hear the alarm...We have a hostage. I must wake Will, who is most likely to be having a dreadful hangover. Good. Serves him right. In fact, I will wake Robin first. Where is my sword?..

-- --- ----

Robin

Just our luck.

The Black Knights have set a young Saracen boy into our trap. Clever. They must have been warned of our schemes by some villagers, which is not surprising. Everybody is a traitor, nowadays. We missed the carriages, too. Great.

If anything, we need a spy into the castle. It'll be too heavily guarded once the Black Knights have arrived. It's going to be tough stopping them, now.

We need extra help. More distractions.

Most of all, I need Marian. She's the one person I need, right now. But she's the one person we're missing.

Allan

Bloody Hell, it's early. The little kid's just been dangling from a tree all morning whilst the army stomp through the forest. There's too many of them, now. They'll be raiding the villages before they reach Nottingham. How did we not see this coming? We couldn't even _stop_ 'em.

If only Giz would have me back. We could have a spy on the inside and Robin could have sorted a plan and intercepted this...Or something.Things are going to be tricky without Marian getting the scoop, anymore.

Oh, my _head_. Seriously. It's pounding like mad! Not being funny, but something tells me this isn't going to be such a great day.

Will

I can't even see properly. At least we've taken poor Saiful into the camp, so he'll be well fed. He's terribly thin. The Black Knights must have kidnapped him from the Holy Land to use him for odd jobs and distractions...There's probably more boys like him. So much for ending slavery around here.

Ugh. I feel awful. Did I really drink that much, last night? What exactly did I do? Djaq doesn't seem all too happy.

I think I'll find some timber. I have a feeling we're going to need some disguises to get into the castle, this time.And I'm too guilty about last night's ale to mope around the camp. Best get to work.

John

**This**, I **do** **not** like.

--- -------

Saiful's thoughts

The English are so confusing. First, they snatch me from Amma and tie me up in the dark for days. Next, they set me free in a jungle and I end up hanging from ropes, flying in the air like a bird!

Then, these white men in smelly brown kameezes cut me down, take me into their cold home and take feed me tasteless meat. No spice, at all. I cannot swallow it.

The big man is scary. He had a huge beard, like my brother, Sameer! But Sameer does not have pale skin. And this big man doesn't speak any Arabic. But he has a huge beard, like Sameer.

A Saracen lady is taking care of me. So, I think I'm safe, with her. They must have cut her down from a tree, too. But, she's called Djaq. How strange. Why did they give a women a boy's name?

The English are so confusing.

John

Robin has left the camp. Probably to **think**.

**Thinking** **is** **good**.

This boy is looking at me. He's only a wee thing, and I have **no** idea what he's saying.


End file.
